


An Angel and a Demon Parked on a Park Bench

by batyalewbel



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and some light angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 14:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19211437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyalewbel/pseuds/batyalewbel
Summary: “When I came to the shop it was just on fire,” Crowley says, “It was on fire and you weren’t there and I thought…”“Oh I...well I…” Aziraphale stumbles, staring at the demon, and then…“Oh!”





	An Angel and a Demon Parked on a Park Bench

_ “I lost my best friend.” _

_ “...I’m so sorry to hear it.” _

 

There wasn’t time for quite a  _ long time  _ to have a real conversation.

An apocalypse was on its way, closely followed by agents of heaven and hell bent on their deaths.

It wouldn’t be until later...much,  _ much  _ later that the angel and the demon could have a decent conversation about the day the bookshop burned down.

In fact, both of them have been walking softly about that sequence of events for quite awhile.

They might have been avoiding it actually.

\---

When the talk finally happens, they’re sitting on a park bench. 

Aziraphale with his back straight and his hands pressed tight in his lap.

Meanwhile, Crowley is an ungodly sprawl. Legs splayed wide, arms spread across the back of the bench. Even his head sits loose on his neck.

They’ve been quiet for awhile. Long enough for it to get uncomfortable until Crowley breaks the silence.

“How exactly did you end up discorporated?” 

It’s asked casually and Aziraphale’s eyebrows pop a little at the question.

_ “Oh!  _ Well, I’d uh...contacted Metatron to see about having him call the whole thing off because  _ you know… _ ” he trails off for a moment and Crowley nods, watching him from behind tinted spectacles.

“Then that Shadwell showed up with a lighter and the circle was still  _ active  _ and I…” he makes a face at Crowley who watches him, mouth ever so slightly agape.

“When I came to the shop it was just on fire,” Crowley says, “It was on fire and you weren’t there and I thought…”

His mouth is a crooked line turning downward at the thought.

“Oh I...well I…” Aziraphale stumbles, staring at the demon, perplexed and then…

_ “Oh!” _

Crowley snaps back to the present and frowns at him, “What?”

“When I found you at the pub…”

“Oh no--”

“--And you said.”

“Aziraphale I was  _ drunk.” _

“You said you had lost your best friend.”

Crowley looks away at that, his throat working hard like he swallowing whatever words he might say next. His arm that sat on the bench, nearly touching the angel’s back, moves to his lap the way a dying spider might curl in on itself.

“I didn’t think…” Aziraphale continues, staring at the hard line of his jaw and that shock of red hair, “I was so preoccupied I thought something else might have happened, I didn’t…”

“It’s not like it matters, we got it all fixed up. There’s no need to  _ fuss,”  _ Crowley says, still not looking at the angel. Even from behind tinted glass, Aziraphale always knows when Crowley is looking at him. Something about the demon’s stare makes him feel warm in a way he’s been trying to ignore for a millenia.

But now it seems he must be the one to do  _ something. _

Something to make Crowley look at him again and maybe understand.

That is, if Aziraphale hasn’t misunderstood.

Then again, every angel loves a good leap of faith.

Or in this case, a reach and a tug at the hand of a demon.

And now Crowley is  _ definitely  _ looking at him, as Aziraphale gently holds the demon’s hand between both of his own.

“I...I  _ didn’t know,”  _ he says again and Crowley swallows hard, looking down at their hands and then back at him.

“How could you not know?” Crowley asks, soft like the crackle of embers.

Aziraphale shrugs, blushing helplessly.

“Demons aren’t supposed to be capable of...well... _ you know.” _

“Shows what you know about demons.”

Then neither of them speak, but the angel is still holding the demons hand. Both of them stare at the joining of fingers as Crowley laces them together.

“Am I still going too fast for you, Angel?” he asks, still soft, still careful. Aziraphale stares at the ground and shakes his head emphatically.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees the demon’s slow grin spreading, crooked and amoral, as he brings their joined hands up to press his lips against the angel’s knuckles.

“Well in that case dear, how about some dinner?”

And now Aziraphale smiles, even as he blushes so hard he must be giving off sparks.

“The Ritz?”

“Love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for a friend and also can you tell i have a big fat crush on David Tennant?


End file.
